


Lark

by AdrenalineRevolver



Series: CosettEnjolras AU [5]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Badass Cosette, Blood, Bossuet's Terrible Luck, CosettEnjolras AU, Doctor Joly, Friendship, Gen, Nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 06:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16908276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdrenalineRevolver/pseuds/AdrenalineRevolver
Summary: Cosette gets taken to Joly to take care of her wounds.





	Lark

Bahorel practically beats down Joly’s door when they arrive. 

“Careful now, you’ll scare the life out of him.” Cosette scolds Bahorel gently. Her head is against his chest and her arms are gently wrapped around him.

“Ah if he could die from fright he’d be dead ten times over by now.” Bahorel grins down at her despite his nervousness. Cosette can tell he’s more worried than he’s letting on. 

“I assure you I’m okay.” She smiles through the pain.

“Woman or no you’d lie through your teeth about your health. You’ll have to forgive me if I can’t quite take your word for it.” He seems so serious and it’s a painful thing to see on him. 

Joly soon comes to the door with wide eyes. “W-what happened? Who’s hurt?”

“One doll in need of repair my good sir!” Bahorel steps in with Cosette and does what seems to be an impression of an aristocrat. “Do your best with it or I’ll have your head! This doll is of the utmost importance you see!”

She can’t help but laugh even though it makes the wound sting. If the blood loss wasn’t lowering her inhibitions she might want him to be a bit more serious but at the moment it was a welcome reprieve. 

“Doll?” Joly seemed absolutely perplexed even with her in the dress.

“I’m wounded and need help. I’m the doll, my friend.” Cosette clarifies as she’s brought to the bed. She doesn’t let herself lay back as to keep from staining the sheets. “It’s nothing too serious.”

“Oh, well of course. Strip down and then we can begin the examination.“ Joly quickly gets his equipment from a cabinet nestled against the wall. If he’s at all surprised at which one is the wounded party he doesn’t show it. 

Cosette tries to undo the dress but finds it too painful. Everything seems to pull at the wound and threaten to open it further. “Ah,” She blushes deeply as she realizes what she needs. “Could um. Could one of you assist me?”

“Bahorel would you mind?” Joly calls from his cabinet without looking back.

Bahorel for once seems hesitant as he sits behind Cosette. “I…Do not allow me to hurt you.” 

“I know you won’t.” Cosette smiles over her shoulder. She supposed it was only natural that if Bahorel would ever need reassurance it would be related to being tender. A soft hand was something young men weren’t required to have; it could be freeing in some respects but restrictive in others. There seemed to be no end to the prisons surrounding dresses and trousers.

Bahorel carefully piles her hair over one shoulder and undoes the remainder of the lacing on her corset. When that’s done he uses the rip in the fabric to push it over and off revealing the wound without making her strip entirely. Cosette sets the corset aside and Bahorel places a hand on her shoulder. 

“Are you alright?” He shakes her ever so slightly, the way she’s seen him do with fellow Amis that have assisted him in bar fights and been wounded. The action hurts some however Cosette loves it for what it means. Bahorel sees her as a fighter and a friend even when being faced with the fact that she’s a woman.

She sighs. “I will be. For now I am sore and a little underdressed.”

Bahorel gives a loud guffaw of a laugh. “A little underdressed! I would say so!”

When Joly turns around he squeaks like a mouse that’s been grabbed by a cat. “E-Enjolras?” He covers his eyes but then peeks through them in rapid succession like a scandalized child. 

“Oh yes I suppose we forgot to mention.” Cosette says with an apologetic tone. She probably should have told him right away.

Bahorel laughs so hard that he ends up falling off of the bed. He doesn’t stop even when Cosette tosses the bloody corset down at him. 

\----------

Joly was bright red as he cleaned the wound. 

“I-I can’t believe you didn’t say anything.” He fussed as he worked. 

“I needed to be listened to.” Cosette said calmly. “My words mean much less coming from a woman’s mouth.”

“But what if you harm your chest? What if someone thinks you hysteric?” He doesn’t take his hands away but she can tell he wants to gesture as he speaks.

“Then aren’t we lucky Pinel set such a high standard?” She sighs. The man had released the hysterics patients from the asylum, as he believed that kindness was integral to proper care, if only everyone in positions of power held similar views.

“That wouldn’t be the trouble. You would have to stop. Pretend to seek treatment. Become affiliated only as an interested wife.” Joly stitches the wound carefully, it stings horribly but Cosette does her best to simply bear it.

“Pretend? You think me sane?” She very nearly smiles. 

Joly barks out a laugh. “Oh absolutely not. However your gender doesn’t change that in the slightest. I knew you mad when you challenged the king in the streets. Now you are simply a madwoman rather than a madman. Take heart though, the perfectly sane rarely have the heart to make history.”

“You flatter me doctor. I just hope I can make things better. Making history would be too much to ask.” Cosette actually does smile and toys with the edge of her skirt. 

“If you truly make this world a better one I can’t think of something more historic.” He starts wrapping the wound.

“Joly, may I ask you something?” She does her best not to wince while the bandages touch the more painful spots.

“Of course.” He has to reach around her and Cosette notices that his hands are shaking ever so slightly. She wonders what has Joly so nervous, the question, her injury, or her unexpected identity.

“If you really thought me mad for dressing as a man would you ever…seek to have me put away?” She tries not to sound nervous about the impossibility.

“Never.” Joly assures her right away. He sounds completely certain.

“Why not?” Technically it was what he was meant to do.

Joly thought for a moment as if he was debating what to say. “Larks don’t sing in cages.” He finishes the wrapping. “There. Please try to rest. I know it’s not in your nature but you need it.”

“I’ll try. I just need to be home by nightfall.” She doesn’t want to risk papa finding out while she’s injured of all things. That would be terribly difficult to explain.

“Bossuet and I will take you home when the sun starts to set.” Joly carefully laid her on her side.

“Thank you. So very much.” Cosette let her exhaustion overtake her.

\----------

She woke up to the sound of Bossuet bumping into the corner of the bed. 

“Sorry! Joly specifically said not to wake you unless I had to but the sun was going down and I was going to try and do so gently.” He was inspecting his foot through his boot to make sure it wasn’t hurt too badly. 

“It’s quite alright, I’m just glad you didn’t hurt yourself.” Cosette holds the blanket to her chest as she sits up. 

“I wish I could say the same for you.” He’s carrying her Enjolras outfit. “Bahorel brought these over while you were sleeping. Will um, will you need help changing?” Even the top of his head dusted pink.

“I may, would you mind staying? You can face away until I need you.” She holds out her hand for the clothes.

“Of course.” He hands them to her and quickly turns around. “I hope you don’t mind that Joly told me. He had to go speak to Combeferre and he didn’t want me to discover on accident.”

“I know he won’t say a word to anyone else.” She carefully pulls the shirt over herself. It feels much more like home than the dress did. 

“May I ask who else knows?” Bossuet stared at the cabinet of medicine as if it interested him. 

“Combeferre and Courfeyrac have known for some time. Feuilly and Bahorel found out earlier today. I suppose it’s easier to say who doesn’t know now that you and Joly are aware.” She can’t help but sigh. 

“Never fear, little lark, the others wont mind when they come to know in time.” He seems to be smiling based on his tone. “Just today you’ve proven that you’re willing to bleed for this.”

Cosette smiles at the fact that Joly and Bossuet already share a term for her as they share so much else. Truly they had a closeness that she admired. “Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome.” He waits patiently. 

Cosette is able to dress herself until she gets to the boots. Bending is just too painful. “Um, I hate to impose.” She feels her cheeks flush. 

Bossuet turns around quickly and sees that she’s sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s no trouble. Joly would end me if you reopened your wound while under my care.” He’s soon kneeling in front of her and helps her step into each. He even laces them for her. 

“Thank you. It really is a shame that the world seems to be determined to punish you at every turn. You’re such a gentleman.” She smiles as he helps her up.

“It’s quite alright, I make up for it in wonderful company. Do you feel well enough to head out?” Bossuet takes a step back.

“I believe so.” Cosette smiles. “If I’m not I will have wonderful company to assist me.”

Cosette ends up walking home with one of the men on each arm. They speak of everything from protests to ridiculous sounding leather pants as they stroll through the dimming streets of Paris. She notices that they treat her gently however her heart is warmed to realize that it’s her wounds rather than her gender for the ginger treatment.

\----------

That night she’s scarcely able to sleep for her heart fluttering. 

Not long ago she only had her father and the birds for company. Now she had such kind friends who just filled her life with love; it gave her all the more reason to commit herself to their cause, they deserved a better world. 

A happy world where their class didn’t restrict them and they didn’t have to fight. A world where Feuilly didn’t have to work himself to the bone for demanding monsters, a world where Bahorel can show his nervousness through something other than a joke, a world where Joly didn’t have to worry about her being labeled mad. 

Somewhere like the castle she would retreat into as a child but real. Real, free, and equal without the monarchy to exploit them to their deaths. She must cut a path to it. Not just for her mother’s memory and for what is right but for her friends and what they deserve. 

Perhaps Courfeyrac will know of someone who can teach her to fight.

**Author's Note:**

> The ending is brought to you by me listening to 'castle on a cloud' and weeping.


End file.
